


Oranges and Lemons

by winterda



Category: IT - Stephen King, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Horror, Crossover, Gen, Graphic Description, I don't know, Mystery, Nightmare Fuel, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 14:50:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20659031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterda/pseuds/winterda
Summary: After the Accords blow up, some of the Avengers and their kids need a place to lay low for awhile.  Fury has a safe house for them.  At least, he thought it was safe.OrThe Avengers/IT crossover that no one asked for.





	Oranges and Lemons

**Author's Note:**

> Full credit where credit is due: This is completely JustMe—Emily and her wonderful headcanon's fault. That being said, if the Russos can mess with the timelines, then so can I. So, here's some things you need to know: we have little Morgan Stark, but this takes place sometime after Homecoming, but no Thanos or Snap to worry with. Just a child-eating monsters who dresses like a clown. Everything else I'll just try to make as clear as possible as we go along. Also, I've never written horror before, so I don't know how well this will work. However, be warned. This is horror. It's not nice. Please keep that in mind as we continue onward.

It was raining again. All it did lately was rain. Everywhere that they went, it was there too. Little rain, big rain, heavy rain, cats-and-dogs rain – rain, rain, rain. Morgan was sick of it. 

Leaning back in her car seat, she watched the trail of water slide down the side of the dark glass of her window. The light from the houses and old street lamps they would pass by make the rain sparkle like stars on the glass. She'd always thought that was pretty because it reminded her of the water at the lake house when the sun would set. 

Too bad it now felt like she had been looking at it for weeks, and she was so tired of it. 

Her mommy had told her that the weather was like that sometimes. When things got warm again, the snow would melt and spring showers would start. But she promised that before Morgan knew it, it would be summer again. 

Morgan loved summer. 

She wouldn't have to go to preschool for half a day anymore and instead would get to hang out with her daddy. And Peter would be there too because he wouldn't have to go to school anymore either, and they were going to have so much fun together. Peter was always fun to have around. 

Or he use to be, anyway. 

Things had been weird ever since her mommy left for Beijing last week. It was supposed to be a fun-filled week with her and Daddy. He promised to spend every afternoon playing with her and letting her stay in the lab with him to see what he was doing. Her opinion was very important, and he'd want to know what she thought about his newest invention. Then they'd have hamburger for dinner and watch movies until she fell asleep. 

The bestest part was that bath time would be “officially suspended” because she was going to do plenty of splashing around in lake. That was what Daddy said, anyway, and Morgan was more than happy to go along with it.

The next bestest part was that Peter was coming over for the weekend. They were going to work on his web shooters and stuff. Then he'd take her up into the trees so high that she could see the city. Her dad swore that she couldn't, but Morgan thought if she looked real hard she could. 

Then, on Monday afternoon, it started raining. Her dad had played with her like he promised, but they had to stay inside. It was okay, but it wasn't as much fun as having a tea party at her fort. 

That night, right in the middle of her favorite movie, her dad had gotten a call. She didn't know what it was about, but he'd yelled a lot. She didn't like it when he yelled, but he promised that it wasn't about her. Then he turned off the movie right at her favorite part and made her go to bed. Morgan hadn't been happy with that, but she knew better than to argue. He didn't even tell her a story before shutting off the lights and her closing her door. 

She wasn't sure how much later it was, but lightning struck near the house and woke her up. The storm was worse than before. She wasn't a fraidy cat like Stupid Lilly Anne Thompson said she was, but Morgan did want to ask her dad how much longer it was going to storm. Not because she was scared or anything, but because her doll Mrs. Curie didn't like them. But when she went to go find her dad, he was gone. He left FRIDAY in charge, but it was still weird. He never left her alone like that. Someone was always supposed to be with her because Mommy said she was too little to stay by herself. But her daddy had left her and during a bad thunderstorm! FRIDAY tried to keep her occupied, but she wanted her daddy, but he was gone for ages and ages. And then – 

And then... 

Morgan sniffed. 

She didn't like thinking about the “and then.” 

“Hey, Little Miss,” her dad said. 

He was halfway turned around in the front seat so that he was looking at her over the corner of the top of his seat. It looked weird and uncomfortable, and reminded her how her Barbies looked when you twisted them around at their waists. Then her daddy smiled her in that way that he always did when he wanted her to know everything was okay. Too bad it didn't feel like it. 

“You doing okay?” 

Pushing her palm hard against her right eye, Morgan nodded. “I'm hungry, Daddy.” 

“We'll be there soon, kiddo,” he said. “Of course, we would have already been there if someone would have just let us use a quinjet.” 

Mr. Director Fury made the windshield wipers go faster and kind of snorted. 

“I don't exactly have a fleet of those things lying around anymore to be at your beck and call, Stark," he said. "And the ones I do have are a bit busy at the moment.” 

A car passed by them going in the opposite direction. Like he had since they left the house, Mr. Director glanced up into the review mirror to watch it drive away before looking back at the road in front of them. Happy did that a lot too, but he said it was because he was playing the license tag game. He'd even played it was Morgan sometimes. Mr. Director must really like to play too, especially when it was so dark outside. 

Huffing a bit, her dad straightened himself out in his seat. “Amazing how that worked out that way.”

For a moment, things went back to be silent and boring. Riding in a car had always been at least a little bit boring, but the grownups tried to make sure she had something to do. Happy was the one who drove her most places. He would play “car games” with her or let her listen to the radio or both. One time he let her play with his phone, but Morgan had changed the language to Portuguese by accident. She wasn't allowed to use it anymore. 

Daddy had thought it was funny at least.

Mommy usually talked to Morgan if she didn't have a “business stuff” to take care of which wasn't often. Unless it was real important, FRIDAY kept people from being able to call her mom. Mommy said that it was important that Morgan know that she could talk to her and that she would always listen. 

On real long car rides, they'd listen to books. The Harry Potter books and _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_ were her favorites. Mommy sometimes chose other ones for her to listen to, though. The last one was The Wizard of Oz series, which wasn't that bad. She didn't like Princess Langwidere or the wheelers or any of the evil witches, though. She'd had nightmares for months about the wheelers chasing her for her head after she'd watch that 80s movie about Dorothy going back to Oz.

Morgan made herself not think about it. 

“You know,” her daddy finally said, “if you let me drive, I could get us there in no time because I actually go above little old lady speed.” 

“The goal was to get here as inconspicuously as possible, remember?” Mr. Director Fury said. “Which is not exactly what you're known for.” 

“I can be inconspicuous,” her dad replied. “Ask Happy. I lose him all the time.” 

Mr. Director wasn't that impressed, but Morgan knew he should be. Happy was very good at keeping up with her and Mommy and Peter. He tried with her dad, but Daddy had a way of slipping away for a long time. Morgan thought it was because her dad was Iron Man, and he could go anywhere and was super fast. That had to be hard to keep up, even for Happy. 

She missed him. 

She hoped he and Mommy were okay. 

Smiling a little to himself, he dad then asked, “What about you, Pete? You doing okay back there?” 

“I'm fine.” Peter stared out the dark window. 

He'd been doing that a lot lately. Ever since _that night_ when her dad had showed up with him and Mr. Director Fury, Peter had been acting odd. He'd been super quiet and didn't want to talk to anyone. Not that Morgan blamed him. Things had been real scary then, and she didn't want to talk about it either. 

But something felt different about why Peter didn't want to talk. Like that her dad and Peter and problem Mr. Director knew something that she didn't. Morgan tried to ask once or twice, but they'd just tell her that it was nothing she needed to worry about. They said that a lot lately. Especially about things that she thought she might need to worry about. 

When Peter didn't say anything else, her dad pressed his lips into a tight frown. Mr. Director glanced at her dad out of the corner of his eye, but didn't say anything either. There was nothing but the slosh of the windshield wipers and the tinging of rain on the roof. 

“I have to go to the bathroom.” 

*

Even though he'd only had to run from the SUV to the awning, Peter still managed to get drenched by the time he stepped up onto the sidewalk. Pushing back his wet bangs away from his face with one hand, he bounced Morgan a little higher on his hip. She didn't catch nearly as much as himself, but she shook her head and shoulders like she was a wet dog anyway. It didn't do anything aside from fling her wet curls across her face, which caused some of them to stick. Peter breathed a laugh when she made a face and pushed and pulled the hair from her mouth.

Dramatic.

Wonder where she got that from.

“That all of it, Morguna?” Peter asked as he helped her unstick the last of it.

“Yeah,” she said before giving Peter a push to be let down. 

He held onto her hand as she splashed in the small puddle from an old ice machine that sounded like it had had better days. Then the whole place seemed like that. Two gas pumps that didn't take cards, one half-glass door with stickers for products that were discontinued before Peter was even born, the complete lack of outside cameras – this was one of those places that were either so old and well-established in a community that no one could image it not being there any longer, or no one ever came to unless they absolutely had to. Since it was Director Fury who picked the place, Peter hedged his bet on which it was.

As if he could hear his thoughts, Fury blew out a puff cigarette smoke and raised an eyebrow as if he expected Peter to challenge him on his choice. He wouldn't, of course. Peter understood well enough why they had to stop at places like this, but it would have been nice to stop at a place that didn't smell like gas, mold, and unclean bathrooms. From the outside.

Flicking the cigarette butt out into the rainy parking lot, Fury then reached for the door handle to let them in.

“Five minutes.”

Peter pressed his lips.

Give him five minutes to clear the place. If it was, he'd come out for smoke. Then come inside. Five minutes to get in and out and leave.

Peter wondered if Fury knew any other amount of time than that.

He just nodded, though, and went inside.

Some movie was playing on a television that looked just as old as everything else. The sound was up loud enough to echo through the empty store, and the movie was apparently at the part where someone was giving a rundown of what happened to the characters afterward. There was something vaguely familiar to what was being said, but not enough to where he could remember to what it was. He'd seen way too many movies, so he didn't bother to try and figure out which one it was.

Displays for cigarette lighters and pocket knives and five hour energy shots made it hard to see the clerk, but the guy barely lifted his eyes from the television screen to see who walked in before dismissing them. That was fine by Peter. The less attention the guy payed to them, the better off they were.

The bathrooms were tucked in a small hallway behind the coolers. Peter wrinkled his nose at the sharp scent of industrial cleaner and flowery air freshener mixed with vomit and other things he'd rather not think about. It was strong enough to start to make his head to begin to ache. God, his powers were cool and he wouldn't trade them for anything, but sometimes he just wished that he could...turn them down a little. 

Morgan small hand squeezed his much larger one. “Are you okay?”

Peter forced a smile. He was doing that a lot lately.

“I'm fine,” he said and then turned back to the bathroom door. 

The women's bathroom door. 

Peter could never remember a time in his life when he had ventured inside he women's room. Surely his mother must have taken him in one when he was a kid, but he couldn't recall being inside one. It was kind of always understood that he wasn't allowed inside. Like it was some sacred place that only girls and ladies were allowed to venture inside. Yet, here he was with a little girl who needed to go inside and too little to go by herself. 

God, why couldn't Mr. Stark take her? Sure, he understood the whole “famous and too well-known and therefore easy to spot and remember” thing, but still. 

Maybe he could take her into the men's room?

The one that he could smell from here.

Yeah, that's a big no.

“You don't have to come in with me,” Morgan said as if reading his thoughts. 

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

“Uh-huh,” she replied. “I'm a big girl.”

Peter pressed his lips. He'd promised Mr. Stark he'd keep an eye on her, but that couldn't mean the whole time she was...using the facilities. Right? And she was too big to need his help with anything. He'd been around her long enough to know that. So, maybe...

Wrapping his knuckles against the door, Peter waited for any sort of answer for a few seconds before pushing the door opened. Not all the way, of course, but enough to where he could peak inside. It was pretty small with only the handicap stall and one other and both were empty. Directly across from them, there was a counter with a single sink and paper towel dispenser that was way to high for Morgan to be able to reach. It was fine, though, because Peter could grab a few before they left. Most importantly, there were no windows. The only way in or out was through the door, and Peter would be there the whole time.

“Okay,” Peter said. “But you let me know if you need any help. I'll be waiting right out here.”

She nodded before going into the bathroom.

Silently sighing, Peter leaned back against the wall. Directly across from him was one of those public boards where people could put up fliers for things. Like the stickers, most of the stuff was ridiculously out of date: an advertisement for the Forth of July city picnic from last year, a garage sale for the Sat. the 20th with no other information, an “Elect Vic” for town mayor from five years ago. Apparently no one ever bothered to clean the board off, just add new fliers on top of old ones.

Like the missing kid poster someone had stapled right in the middle of the board. It was homemade and had been run off on a copy machine whose toner was running low, which made it a little difficult to make out the details of the kid's face. He was young, though – Peter could tell that – with pudgy cheeks and glasses that were too big for his face. They were sort of like the glasses that Peter use to have to wear, before he was bitten. He remembered how Aunt May used to grin and call him Mr. Owl whenever he had to push them back up on his nose.

Peter stepped away from the missing poster and the memory and wandered back to the hallway's opening, which gave him a nice view back into the convenient store. Director Fury was still outside smoking another cigarette, but his back was to Peter as he watched the parking lot and the rain. A few cars passed by, but they all sped by so quickly that Peter could hardly tell what color they were let alone what kind. Director Fury probably could, but that was probably all part of being a super spy.

His position also gave Peter a good view of the back of the counter and the television set. Having become so use to digital screens, the picture looked flat out fuzzy and it was hard for Peter to make out the finer details. However, it was clear enough for him to be able to tell what movie was playing: _Pit of the Black Demon_. 

Peter shuttered.

He remembered that movie. It was one of those classic movies that most people had seen and had varying opinions on. Even still, there were iconic scenes from it that would found there way into pop culture, which was how most of his generation knew about it from a young age. For as old it was, everyone pretty much agreed that it had held up pretty well. 

As much as he loved movies, Peter hadn't ever actually seen the whole thing. He and Ned had always said they were going to sit down on Halloween and watch it, but it never seemed to happen. On the one hand, Peter found it frustrating because he was genuinely curious about it. His uncle had been a huge fan of the author of the book it was based off of, and if Uncle Ben liked it, it must be good. 

On the other hand, Peter had seen one scene when he was a kid, and he'd had nightmares for months after. He wasn't even sure why it had stuck with him so much because he'd seen way scary stuff since then, but even now just thinking about it sent a cold shiver up his spine. He didn't even know the context of what he was watching, but he remembered the way the red-headed heroine had run down this shallow stream in the middle of the night while her blood-soaked, zombie-like, crazed husband chased after her with a machete. 

Peter shifted his shoulders as if to physically remove himself from the memory. He knew he was being stupid. That it couldn't be as scary as he thought, and the only reason it was so bad for him then was because he had been six. It still stuck with him, though, and just the thought of the actor's smile as he went after her was enough to give Peter the chills.

Thankfully, the picture of the iconic isolated cabin in the woods faded away and the end credits began to zoom by with rapid speed. They had barely begun to scroll when they moved to one side of the screen and a middle-aged anchor women took up the other half.

“Next, on Channel 3's 11:00 o'clock news, an update to the Luce family murder trial. Prosecutors presented the text messages between the two alleged teen killers. Our very own Mark Sinclair will have the latest for you.”

Peter frowned as he tried to place the story that the anchor woman was talking about, but he drew blank. Yeah, he didn't pay that much attention to the news for the most part, but two teenagers killing a family seemed like something that he should have at least heard about in passing. After all, New York City wasn't that far away.

No sooner had he thought that when another thought about all the times that Aunt May had asked him to do something for her and he just forgot. It felt like he did that a lot, just forgot things. Maybe this was one of those times. It wouldn't be the first major news thing to happen that he just kind of didn't pay attention to. 

Kind of like the whole Accords and who was leading the charge thing.

“Also, where is Iron Man?” the newswoman continued, snapping Peter's attention back to her. She smiled and said, “Join us for the latest update on the ongoing search for the fugitive superhero. That, plus weather and sports coming up next.”

Peter felt the blood drain out of his face. 

Oh, no. 

Oh, nonononono.

As soon as the credits finished, a deep voice announced the 11:00 o'clock news and the different hosts, but Peter could barely hear it over the loud drumming in his ears. What now? What were they saying now? 

Did something else happen? 

Was Ms. Potts okay? 

Had they done something else?

Oh, god, what was happening now?

A cold chill climbed down Peter's back as every hair on his arms and neck stood on end. The fear and dread of the upcoming news was suddenly drowned out by the utter certainty that something dangerous was nearby that sprang up within him. Something so dangerous that it was causing his spider senses that usually whispered to scream.

The cashier stared at the TV and popped another chip.

Director Fury crushed his cigarette under his boot.

Morgan was...

Her heart was racing.

*

Pushing herself up onto her tip toes, Morgan stuck her hands under the running faucet and rubbed them together with the soap just like her mommy had taught her. For as old as the gas station Mr. Director Fury had taken them to was, it had changed over to the automatic faucet and soap dispenser at some point, which was lucky for Morgan. She was a little tall for her age, but she was pretty sure she would have still been too short to work a normal sink. The hand dryer the old fashion kind, though, but if she stretched she should be able to pull the lever down. 

A tingle ran across her neck, causing her looked up at her reflection in the old mirror. Being so young, she didn't really have a word for what she was feeling, but it was one she knew pretty well. It was the same one she got whenever she would play hide-and-seek and she was the hider and someone was coming up on her hiding spot. If they turned their head or pulled the sheets back that she would be found and the game would be over. But if she were real still, they might overlook her. This felt like when her daddy or Uncle Rhodey knew exactly where she was, and were just waiting for her to make the first move. That's what it was. It felt like someone was looking at her but didn't want her to know it. 

She felt – 

– caught – 

– seen. 

Only the excited fun that came with Daddy or Uncle Rhodey finding wasn't right. This was not happy. This was...something else.

But no one was in here.

Right?

Pressing her lips, Morgan shifted her weight to one foot so she could look into the stall she had just used. The door was still open, and the single light in the bathroom shone down into it. The water was still running a little from when she had flushed the toilet, but other than that there was nothing different about it.

The door to the handicapped stall next to was closed and had been since Morgan walked in. Its light was out, and the corner it was tucked into was mostly dark. Not as dark as her closet, but close enough for her to imagine the shadows that lurked inside her room at night waiting on the other side of the paint-chipped door.

Morgan hadn't thought much about it when she came inside. She had just gone for the closest empty one. But maybe someone had been in here when she came in. Maybe Peter didn't notice them when he opened the door. Maybe they were waiting for her make a run for it before just grabbing her from behind.

Stop it. She was Iron Man's daughter and a Stark. Her dad wasn't scared. He'd faced really bad men and women, and he didn't get scared of them. He wouldn't be afraid of a stupid stall. 

So neither would she.

Straightening her back, Morgan stepped up to the door and tilted her head back so that she could see its top. Her mommy could easy have reached up there, but Morgan was way too short. Instead, she knelt down and tried to look under it, but short of getting down onto her knees, she couldn't really see anything. It didn't look like anyone was there, but that didn't mean a whole lot. There had been lots of times when she played hide-and-seek with her mommy or daddy or Uncle Rhodey or Peter – not Happy because he would just stand there when she counted and then say “You found me” when she opened her eyes – and they'd be somewhere where she thought they weren't. (Peter especially. She had to remember to look up because he liked to hide on the ceiling.) So just because she didn't see feet didn't mean no one was in there.

Placing her hand on the door, Morgan reminded herself that there was nothing in there, and gave the door a shove. 

A toilet dirtier than the one she had to use and a broken toilet paper dispenser were the only things there.

Morgan let out a short breath as her shoulders relaxed on their own. See. She was being so dumb. It wasn't like someone was going to crawl out of the toilet.

There was a small rattle of pipes overhead, like someone in the restroom next to hers had used some water and changed the pressure somehow. It was quiet and not something she would have paid attention to had everything not been so quiet. Morgan squinted up at the old tile ceiling and would have dismissed it had she not realized that the rattle was...moving. The sound was always short and swift and small. It reminded Morgan of the time when they were at the lake house and a squirrel had gotten into the walls while they were away. It was sort of close to the sound that she had heard late at night while in her bed. Except this sounded...bigger.

And faster.

Morgan tracked the sound across the ceiling and down the wall right behind the toilet. It jiggled once, and then twice as it slid down.

Then nothing.

Morgan frowned and tilted her head. The rain faintly beat against the roof. The air continued to circulate through the vents. The wall remained quiet.

After a moment or two of relative silence, her shoulders sagged. It was probably just a mouse. Her daddy had complained how dirty the gas stationed looked when Mr. Director had pulled into the parking space. Now that Morgan wasn't “dying” anymore, she could see what her daddy had meant. Mommy would – 

The bang that echoed through the bathroom was enough to cause Morgan to jump back and for her hands to go to her ears. Her hearing wasn't as sensitive as Peter's, but her dad had always made her cover her ears when anything got too loud. And this was loud. Way too loud. It banged and banged and banged over and over like fireworks that were too close. Or thunder that was right overhead. Or – or other things. Like from that night.

She wanted to scream, but it held in her throat as if it were afraid of making a sound any louder than a whimper. Morgan squeezed her hands tightly against her ears and tightly tucked in her arms and waited for the sound to stop or for Peter to burst through the door to see what was happening. He had to have heard it. Her daddy and Mr. Director had to be able to hear it too. It was so loud.

Until it wasn't. The silence came back as quickly as it left. A heartbeat passed. And then another. But no more banging came. Slowly, Morgan relaxed her wrists and let her hands fall away from her ears. The rain was back along with the flowing air and her slightly loud heartbeat.

_Run_, something whispered. _Run to the door and don't look back because you'll turn to stone if you do._

Her feet wouldn't move. She was stuck, pushed up against the counter staring at the stall.

Peter would come get her. Mr. Director had said she had five minutes. It had to have been longer then that by now. Right?

No, she had to be brave. She had to move. She had to – 

A red balloon suddenly peaked out over the top of the stall. It bounced a few times, like it wanted to float away but someone was holding it tightly by the string. 

Morgan stared.

What?

The bathroom door slammed opened and caused Morgan to jump even farther back. Unfortunately, this made her ram her elbow right into the side of the counter. Pain exploded down her arm, red hot and sharp, which forced the scream that had been caught in her throat to finally escape. 

“Oh, geez,” Peter said as he appeared right in front of her. “Morg, I'm – I'm sorry. I'm – please stop crying.”

But there was no stopping the tears now that they were falling. Between the pain and days of frustration and whatever that banging had been, Morgan suddenly found herself unable to stop herself from wailing. It was loud and piercing and childlike, but she didn't care. She was just wanted to cry.

So she did.

*

Peter didn't know what to do. Which wasn't any different than most of his life most days, but different in that this was usually something he could take care of. Ever since Mr. Stark had started the whole mentoring things with him and Peter got to meet Morgan, he'd always been pretty good with her. Usually, Peter would just have to ask and Morgan was more than glad to do whatever it was just because he was the one who wanted her to do it – much to her parents annoyance and gratefulness. They wanted Morgan to eat her vegetables, have Peter do it. She won't go to sleep, Peter. Way too much energy for Mr. Stark to deal with, Peter, again. It was just kind of their thing.

But Morgan wasn't going along with it this time. 

She just kept crying and screaming, no matter what Peter tried to do.

“I'm sorry,” he said pulling her close. “I'm so, so sorry. Please – it's okay. I promise.”

But she didn't stop. 

Normally, it would just be an annoyance that they would have to deal with. But she kept this up and the clerk came to see what was going on, or worse recognized her.

“Please, stop,” he said as he picked her up and bounced slightly. “Please, Morg, you've got to stop.”

They needed to leave. Now.

Holding her so her face was now hidden in his shoulder, Peter hurried out of the bathroom and back into the gas station. The clerk, who had been glad to ignore them when they came in, was now standing behind the counter like he was about to come check on what was going on. 

Crap.

“Um, she saw a – a spider,” he said and took off out the door.

Director Fury was waiting and apparently had heard Morgan screaming all the way out the door. “What the hell is going on?”

“I –” 

“Pete?” Mr Stark said as he got out of the car and jogged over to them.

“Stark, get back in the car,” Director Fury snapped.

“What happened?” Mr. Stark asked as he took Morgan. She immediately latched onto him as Mr. Stark began to also try and shush her. “Hey, Little Miss, it's okay. It's okay. Peter, what's going on?”

“I don't know,” Peter stammered. “I – I – she was in the bathroom, and then there was – and she started screaming when I came in–”

“You weren't with her?” Mr. Stark snapped.

Peter felt more than heard the helpless sound that came from his throat. “I thought – she said she'd be fine.”

“She's five, Peter! Five! God, how could you be so irresponsible?” 

Heat prickled at Peter's eyes. “I know! I'm sorry!”

“That enough!” Fury yelled as he moved to place himself between them. 

As soon as he barrier was there, Peter dropped his gaze down to the large puddle they were standing in and tried unclench his fist. Morgan's screams had down died now to a whimper no that she was in the safety of her father's arms, but Peter couldn't help but feel his own cries welling up in his throat. He was just supposed to take Morgan to the bathroom, and he couldn't even do that right. 

Typically Parker.

“Alright then,” Fury said now that they weren't all screaming at one another. “Now everybody get in the car, before anyone else notices this little family drama.”

Mr. Stark didn't say anything.

Peter just sniffled and nodded.

Somehow, it all ended up with Peter in the front seat and Mr. Stark and Morgan in the back. Things were quiet then when Director Fury pulled back on the small two-lane road that was taking them into some small town. Morgan had quieted down fully by then, and Peter wouldn't be surprised if she weren't asleep, but he didn't dare turn around to check. Instead, he chose to watch the rain slid down the window. 

At one point he could feel Mr. Stark's eyes on him, but it was safer to read the passing signs than deal with that. The town proper was in sight now, and the large white sign stood there on the side of the road to greet them.

_Welcome to Derry._

Peter felt a sigh begin, but it was quickly cut off by an odd thing. If he hadn't been paying attention when they drove by, he probably would have never noticed it, but there it was. Just beyond the welcome sign in the pouring rain floated a single red balloon.

That was...weird.

**Author's Note:**

> So, what do you guys think? Should I continue?


End file.
